Canada, America, and the Drive
by Chasing The Black Rabbit
Summary: The writer lost her mind during the making of this story. Canada and America go out for a drive! But Canada is more than that quiet, sensitive guy we all know! Pure crack guys, and I'm not doing something as weird as this!


**Canada's from the Hood**

**Me: Yo peeps, what up my homes!**

**You: Okay cut the gangster junk and just get on with the story!**

**Me: FINE HATERZ! Haters will hate.**

**You: =.="**

**Me: Okay, time to be serious. No need to be up in my grills.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia! I wish I did. Oh, and I don't own Dave Chappelle.**

**Plot: Canada goes out for a ride with America, but scars him for life. Just crack. Snapped!Canada scares me. I've never seen such Canadian rage with a stream of cussing. No doubt I won't be writing like this again! D8 I FEEL SO DIRTY! Please forgive me guys; I felt the urge to write, no matter how wrong this was. If you thought it was funny, please review. If you didn't and hate me for the rest of your life, well yeah, I guess I had it coming. This was meant to be short and fast-paced, don't get a hissy fit…**

"Thanks for taking me out to Applebee's…er…" America racked his brain for the name. Canada smiled brightly, not paying attention. They were driving in Canada's Camero, out to get a bite to eat. The writer felt like writing something hilarious and both funny at the same time, so she began writing this.

"Canada~!"

"Oh right, thanks man." America grinned at his brother. He was so cheerful tonight, so cheerful, he didn't care that America had forgotten his name. That was a shocker. But Alfred was going to enjoy it, no matter.

"Don't mention it brother."

"Y'know, we gotta stay together. I'm glad we're doing this." America sighed happily.

"No problem."

"Hey look there's Applebee's." America pointed at the restaurant. Canada glanced at it and then stepped on the gas pedal. The meter rose and the car drove by. America blinked.

"Dude, you just crossed Applebee's.

"I know. Relax." Canada replied. America looked uncomfortable. What did Canada mean exactly? The car suddenly made a turn into the ghetto. Hoodlums, junkies, and teens were hanging around, listening to music with obscene language. Tombstones were on people's lawn, which scared the crap out of Alfred. _My God, I'm in the hood man!_ The car pulled up to a club. A gang was hanging out at the entrance, joking around. Canada looked at America. "Duck."

"Huh?"

"Hey Scorpion!" Canada yelled loudly. Wait, he yelled? What was going on? The writer sure as hell didn't plan this. One of the gang members turned and screamed.

"OH SHIT, IT'S WILLIAMS SON!" The people scattered, but not fast enough. Canada whipped out a large machine gun—where'd he get that?—and began shooting. The guy named Scorpion began bleeding in the stomach, then slumped on the ground, dead. Canada cackled and drove away. America stared in horror.

"Man what the hell!"

"Relax America, you're so worrisome!" Canada laughed lightly, like nothing just happened. America gaped at him.

"Dude you just shot those people! We're not supposed to kill people!" The car screeched to a halt. Canada lunged and smacked his brother hard. The writer was confused, but kept writing. Because this story was too weird to end just like that.

"You planning on snitching?"

America rubbed his sore cheek. "N-no…" He was truly afraid of his brother. Canada relaxed and smiled.

"Okay, I was scare for a second. No worries." Inside America's brain, he was thinking about how insane this guy truly was. All that pent up anger and eagerness…free to wreck havoc and ravage the body and soul of Alfred F. Jones.

"Hey um, Canada, I need to get some money, I'm out of money."

"I'll get you some money."

From _where_ exactly Matthew? The answer was revealed as Matthew pulled up besides a small building, with purple light streaming out of the small windows. Loud energetic music pulsed out of the structure, and America was stunned that it didn't fall from such force. Women in racy clothes started to crowd over the car. They smelled of rum and cigarettes. America's stomach lurched. These. Were. Prostitutes.

"These are the hoes!" Canada gestured to the women. "Hoes, Al, Al, hoes."

"Evening bitches." Alfred said mildly, still freaked out. Believe me, the writer was too, so freaked out she was starting to speak gibberish, but let's not dwell on that. The prostitutes handed over their money, one by one. Then the last one handed a dollar bill. No offense, but the writer thought this was a sad prostitute…

"What's this? Why's there only one dollar bill?" Canada frowned, eyes wide. The lady shrugged.

"Sorry Daddy." DADDY? America recoiled in horror. Canada was….a pimp!

"I- don't understand. There should be more—Is, is…_Canada va devoír d'étrangler une chienne?__**(1)**_" Canada looked at her in the eyes. America paled, realizing what his brother had said.

"C-Canada!"

"I think I'm going to choke a bitch…" Canada's hands tensed against the steering wheel. He grimaced, struggling to stifle his anger. "I think I have to—I try not to be…I'm going to choke this bitch." The Canadian began to unbuckle his seatbelt, and America grabbed him.

"Dude just let her go!" He begged.

"No! I'm going to do it."

"Man, just give her another chance!" America did not want to see this prostitute dead. It was wrong to kill innocent lives that haven't killed before. Canada went silent, and then smiled. He began laughing, which scared the holy crap out of America. Then he went serious and glowered at the lady.

"You better thank Alfred. Go on, thank him."

"T-thank you America…" The woman stuttered.

"RUN BITCH RUN!" America flailed, screaming at the top of the lungs. Canada glared at him, and he smiled sheepishly. "I-I mean, you're welcome…"

The car started to rumble and took off, leaving the stripper club behind. Canada handed America the money.

"Here brother, take this."

"I can't take that it's dirty!" America protested.

"Stop being a pussy."

"Did you just call me a—"

"Okay fine…" He pulled out a cigarette and handed it toward America, who gaped at him. "Just smoke this."

"W-what? No I don't smoke."

"Just smoke it Alfie…"

"No."

"Please...?"

"Uh-huh, I told you I don't smoke—"

"This is not an option bitch if you don't smoke this we're going to have a problem." Canada glared at him with full force. America gapped at him. What the freak? "This ain't no afternoon school special smoke it!" America cringed, and took the cigarette. He took a whiff and started coughing, the smoke choking him. Canada _giggled. _

_OH MY GRANDPA ROME WHY'S HE GIGGLING?_ America was slipping into a foggy haze.

"Alfie, I didn't know you like to get wet!" Canada made a cute shock face, then giggled again.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?" America managed to yell this out, before rolling onto his side.

"It's a type of weed~" America's head was spinning. Memories and crazy hallucinations filled his head.

_Become one with Russia da?_

_Chocolate is one hell of a candy._

_PASTAAAAA~!_

_VODKAAAA~!_

North Carolina's face popped up, wearing a beard and a feather hat for some reason.

"_People like Canada because he makes N. Italy look like Malcolm X."_ North beamed at him. Then America passed out.

Siren lights woke him up as the car stopped. America opened his eyes and rubbed them. "Where are we?"

"There's a cop outside, stay here I'll handle this." Canada smiled cheerfully as the police officer flashed a light at them. America had a spaz attack. He was going to jail, he was going to jail! "Is there a problem officer?"

"No 'cept you was going fifty on a forty mile zone."

"Officer, I'm terribly sorry…"

"Please step out so I can check your ID."

"Yes sir~" He chuckled then glared at America. "Not. A. Word." Then he stepped out and confronted the policeman, handing him his driver's license. The man frowned, looking it over, and then stared at Matthew.

"You're Canada?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"Oh my goodness! I love Canada!"

"Thanks." Both men started laughing. America sighed in relief. No one was going to get in trouble.

"Man, my mother is not going to believe this!" The officer handed the ID over.

"That's because she's never going to know fool!"

"Huh—Gak!" Canada grabbed the man in a headlock, the twisted his neck sharply to the side. There was a pop, and the officer slid on the ground. Canada put his hands in the air in triumph.

"GOOD NIGHT WISCONSIN!" He yelled, louder than anything Alfred'd heard. Then he slid back in the car, and drove away with a freaking out American. "I'm sorry about that brother—no wait," he giggled again. "I don't give a fuck! They ignore me all these years and shit goes crazy!"

"I didn't get to say goodbye to my family..." America sobbed; convinced he was going to die. "I wanna go home man…"

"Hey America, wanna go eat?" Canada asked. "You hungry?"

Later…

The two were on the side walk, eating homemade sandwiches made by Canada. America was crying deeply, his tears rolling down his face. Canada looked at him.

"Eat your sandwich Jones." America kept crying. "Eat it Al." Still more crying, and the writer was crying as well, realizing she'd ruined her hero's life. Canada relented, and beckoned for the food. "At least let me have it." Hesitating, he handed it over. "Give it man or I'll bust a cap in your ass!" America swiftly gave him the sandwich, and resumed to crying. Canada nommed on the sandwich like it was the best thing on earth.

LATER STILL

They were on the road again, driving. America was now cowering on the back seat, weeping. Canada turned around. He smirked, and America stared at him with wide eyes.

"I make Italy look like Malcolm X huh asshole?"

"P-p-please leave me alone…" Alfred begged. Canada rolled his eyes and pulled over at Alfred's house. He opened the door and pointed towards the house.

"Alright get out." America didn't need to be told twice. He bolted out of the car and began to run. "Oh and brother!" America spun around. Canada was smiling innocently. "I had fun tonight! Brothers gotta stay together right?"

"Yeah, brothers gotta stay together." America let out a shaky sigh of relief.

"Oh and Al." Canada suddenly whipped out a silver revolver and took aim. Pain lanced into Alfred's leg as a bullet went in, and the man collapsed, screaming. Canada cackled and grove away. "HAHAHAHA I'M RICH BITCH!"

America rocked back and forth, crying once again. "My Leg!"

NEXT DAY!

America opened the door and nearly jumped out of his skin. There was Matthew, smiling and holding Kumajirou. The Canadian was oblivious of his stunts last night. He blinked at America's leg.

"What's with you leg?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" America slammed the door shut, and bolted into his bed room. The force slammed into Matthew's face, breaking his brother's nose.

"M-maple." A voice groaned from outside. And the writer finally gave up.

"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" She screamed, shutting off the computer. Then she took a flight ticket all the way to Spain, and lived there to practice her Español and denied that she was even from America. The End.

**(1)Is Canada going to have to choke a bitch?**

**OKAY NO MORE CRACKS LIKE THIS ANYMORE! I honestly felt weird writing this. But hey, I was feeling immature, and I was, erm…drinking …with a hint of alcohol. Yeah, I'm sorry; I shouldn't be drinking underage as I am. But hey, I have a knack for drinks with alcohol…**


End file.
